Lonliness
by xXFissshBonesssXx
Summary: Thor/Loki - drabble - Loki uses his magick to make a double of Thor. Angst/Longing


**LONLINESS**

Thor/Loki - drabble - Loki uses magick to summon a double of his brother.

* * *

The image of his brother is simple to conjure. Broad shoulders, definition along his thick arms and the column of his neck, thighs like long rocks and stubble raised across the sweep of his jaw. Hair like sunlight, skin like bronze, and eyes of bright cerulean. The design is intimate and exact. Loki has known every crease of his brother's body, every dip and valley and all the ways his muscles rise above the bone to stretch against the taut expanse of his golden skin. He has spent long hours tracing his brother's form with his eyes. It is the task of a few seconds to conjure the lines with substance and weight behind them.

There is a soft flash of light and he is made real. Or real as Loki can make him short of a summoning spell.

There is another flash, an after-thought, and his brother's figure is clothed in a simple tunic and trousers. Nothing so fancy and difficult as their battle-armor or princely garb, something they wore as boys and young men, refitted for the form Thor has grown into.

His brother's doppelganger stands slowly, blinking blue eyes open with the air of one who has recently been pulled from rest. Emerald eyes watch with tentative satisfaction, the physical form is a picture-perfect replica of Thor. Now, to see if the rest is right.

"Brother."

Blue eyes find an expectant emerald gaze.

"Loki."

It's close. The clone is prompted to turn about as Loki fusses with the details (a few strands of hair, too dark; his tunic, too loose in places where the fabric should stretch taut; his reaction, _wrong_) and then brings his arms up around the double's shoulders. Loki inhales deeply. The scent is right, at least, he thinks as he breathes in as much of his brother as his lungs will allow. The clone tilts its head back allowing Loki to dip into his shoulder and at his neck and they just sit like that for a while, breathing.

The clone does not say anything.

Loki doesn't need it to.

"I don't like doing this," Loki murmurs into the bunching cords of muscle at the clone's shoulder and neck, "Even if no one will ever know. I hate this."

The clone does not move, except to lean a little to better accommodate his creator to burrow further into him.

"I hate you," Loki says abruptly. "I hate your hair, the way it smells of the sun, and all things warm and glorious. I hate your skin, your outrageous proportions, your eyes, the color of clear blue waters." His fingers clench tight around his brother's tunic, as if he requires something physical to hold onto. "I hate you," he repeats, but the vehemence behind his words is weak. The clone doesn't nod, doesn't agree or push Loki away. It breathes, content to be a perfect replica of his brother's body, and lets Loki cling. The mischief-god spends a few more minutes picking away at all the things he hates about Thor and then falls silent a while.

It's good to have Thor pulled against his chest, Loki thinks as he idly lets the minutes pass without the pressing need to fill them with anything. He doesn't complain for the lack of conversation to fill the silence. He doesn't ask Loki questions Loki is loathe to answer with the truth. He doesn't do much at all except exist and feel and look and smell of Thor, and Loki allows himself the illusion of security in a moment to let his eyes fall shut and imagine that these things are all he would ever want from Thor.

He runs his fingers through his brother's hair. The clone breathes quietly already but its breath falls slower at this, and Loki gets the impression that it is mirroring Thor's reaction, that it would calm him down. There's a flash of something bittersweet across Loki's face before he returns to feeling false content and runs his fingertips through the golden strands.

"Thor would like this," Loki informs the clone, fingers never stopping, "do you?" The dummy nods its head and Loki smiles.

"He would like this, too," Loki murmurs, leaning up from his comfortable place against Thor's shoulder to press a kiss against his neck. The clone does not shudder beneath him but nods again. Loki shuts his eyes and kisses his neck, runs his hands through the golden locks. The clone nods once, twice, then falls still but for the rise and fall of its chest and shoulders.

Loki does not notice when it stops being enough.

He does notice when the tears start but he ignores them and the clone just nods and breathes in.


End file.
